


I see your humanity (it's in your eyes)

by calie15



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. References, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calie15/pseuds/calie15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SHIELD is in shambles, it’s weak and vulnerable, but those that are faithful remain. Jemma finds herself assigned to study and report on a very dangerous man and sees something in him she can’t ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a compilation of drabbles set in a universe where Bucky returns to a broken SHIELD. I'll probably be adding some chapters in between others.

The first time Jemma sees him she knows she’s in trouble. She’d read his file, thoroughly. He’s dangerous, a murderer, unstable. But she knew the stories of Captain America, everyone did. She’d read them all. As a SHIELD agent you couldn’t escape those tale of heroism. It was because of the people that supported Captain America that SHIELD was born. And when you read about Captain America you read about the fateful end of his best friend Bucky. As a first year at SHIELD Jemma remembered thinking Bucky Barnes had nice eyes.

Now as she stood across from the same man, staring at him, she knew he’d been changed. Those warm, friendly eyes that had stared back from black and white pages were hardened, cold, cruel. 

They said he’d come willingly to SHIELD, but Jemma wasn’t quiet sure of that yet, and she was pretty sure no one else was, considering the armed guards at her back. A lot good they would be if he decided to kill them all.

No fear, don’t stutter, that’s what Jemma told herself as she approached the intimidating man. He sat on the table with that blank stare, bare of a shirt and clad only in a pair of pants. It also didn’t help to comfort her that he was built like a beast. And that arm… She moved forward, tilting her head and watched it curiously. Jemma couldn’t help but wonder why Fitz wasn’t present, it was amazing. It was when her hand was half way towards touching it did she remember who sat in front of her. 

Against May’s instructions, she looked up at him in panic to find him looking down at her. She’d been caught red handed, like a child on Christmas Day.

Shaking her head, Jemma struggled to to portray some form of professional manner. “My name is Jemma Simmons. I’m a biochemist for SHIELD. I'd like to take a few samples of your blood if you don’t mind.” He said nothing, just stared ahead. "Okay, I'll take that as a yes." 

In silence she prepared, laying out everything neatly, efficiently. The quicker and less painful this was the better. She'd read his file, she was aware of the procedures he had endured. Jemma wasn't to fond of earning his ire by performing more.

After she tied off his arm she cleaned his skin and reached for the needle. Nervously, she looked up at him. "Just a little stick. I'm only taking four tubes." He said nothing.

When the needle went through he jerked, and without thinking she laid her hand over his forearm. "Sorry," she said quickly and looked up at him. "It'll just be a minute," Jemma said as gently as possibly, trying to remain calm under his blank gaze. When she looked down it was time to remove one tube and insert the next. After the second she chanced a look at him and slowly lifted her eyes. He was watching her, still. Against her better judgement she held his gaze until it was time to remove the tube. This time she didn't look up again.

After setting them to the side she withdrew the needle and pressed a band aid over the puncture wound. "That's of little use," she mumbled to herself, "your blood clots abnormally fast and your immune system is high." It occurred to her then that she'd spoken without thinking and when she looked up nervously he was staring at her, black hair hanging around his face. "Okay." She pushed back in her chair and stood. Jemma snapped the gloves off, grateful for their loud noise in the silence of the lab. "I'll analyze these and see you in a couple of days."

The reflection of light off of his arm drew her attention and Jemma walked slowly in front of him. Her fingers itched to touch it. Jemma looked up at him, the question on the tip of her tongue. Murderer, assassin. Those were the words they had used. Trained killer. Uncontrollable anger. Suffered from PTSD. Violent. Struggled with memory. Detached. But he'd come to SHIELD, he'd sought out the Captain eventually as the memories had returned. He had memories. He knew who he was. The killer had been a blank slate. This man, Jemma wasn't sure what he was.

"May I?" She asked suddenly and glanced down at his cybernetic arm. Slowly, his eyes looked down. She couldn't see his entire face, but she could see his brow draw together slightly. Maybe she'd asked to much, she always did. She shouldn't have pushed. "Nevermind, it's okay, I-." But he raised his arm and held it out palm up, and looked at her, eyes almost daring. Jemma took the first step forward.

"Agent Simmons, we were instructed you were to only draw blood."

Jemma clenched her teeth. Idiots. They have a mentally unstable man in the room who actually seemed to be making some progress and they had to open their big mouths. Jemma spun. "Excuse me, but I'm the scientist, and I can assure you that my security level far surpasses yours. So if you have a problem take it up with someone else." With that she turned around and looked up at him. He waited. With another step she was in front of him.

The first touch was hesitant. He could kill her with that arm. Jemma saw the videos, she saw what he could do with it. When he didn't move she slid her fingers down the smooth surface. She looked back up at him to judge his reaction, but still seemed to be at ease. So she reached out with her other hand. With a hand beneath his elbow and one on his forearm she straightened it slowly. "I don't know what to make of it," she whispered. "I'm a biochemist. This isn't my area of expertise. My friend Fitz, he would understand it more. I'm just curious is all. To curious I suppose." And she was rambling. Jemma looked up at him and to her shock the corner of his mouth was tipped up slightly and somehow that amusement had reached his eyes, but then quickly it disappeared as if he'd realized he'd revealed to much. Jemma felt her heart leap at the realization that he'd shown some emotion, something positive.

Quickly, she averted her eyes and looked down again. With one hand she still held his forearm, but slid the other to lay over her wrist. "Can you make a fist?" He did so and metal moved under her hand. It worked smoothly, effortlessly. With her mouth parted in amazement she slid her fingers down to his own and gently reached for one finger to unfold it. It went willingly, then the next, and after he opened his hand. She slid her finger curiously over the palm and over his forefinger. 

Then she heard his breathing change and she looked up, noting the draw of his brow and the nervousness in his eyes. She'd gone to far. Slowly, she released him and stepped back. "Thank you."

He breathed deeply, seeming to calm down. Jemma turned to the agents at her back and gave them a quiet okay to take him. He didn't look at her as they led him away. Jemma didn't realize she had been holding her breath until the door closed behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s wasn't like Ward or May. He doesn’t just subdue. He’s a quick and efficient assassin. 

An arm snapped as it bent awkwardly back, a leg folded the wrong way as he kicked it. With ease he snapped another neck. There were weapons at his disposal. He could have easily grabbed one to take out his opponents. Instead he uses brute strength, speed. It’s the last man that he finally points a gun at. By the panicked look on the attackers face she thinks he might have been mid plea for his life. A shot is fired and it goes straight through his head. It’s then that her savior dropped his gun.

The tense line of his shoulders remained, and then he turned to stare down to the corner she had crawled into.

When he takes a step forward she tells herself to scurry off, nervously mumble a thank you, and pray that there is something in him that recognizes her as an ally, not an enemy.

But he’s broken. He’s been broken, over and over again, and Jemma isn’t really sure of how his mind really works. That isn’t her expertise. Reports on a persons mental capacity can only tell you so much, but those reports don’t speak highly of his. As Fitz had said, even his eyes seemed a bit wild. 

Jemma remembered the slightly amused turn of his mouth though, the way it seemed to reach his eyes when she forgot who he really was and held his cybernetic arm in her hands like it was the greatest gift in the world. It was more Fitz’s expertise, but her friend was deathly frightened of the man and Jemma hadn’t had the common sense to be so. He’d smiled though, just slightly, and seemed amused by her. That look had stuck with her.

When he came to stand in front of her and held out his arm, his human arm, she stared at him in shock for a moment. Jemma was at a loss for words. Her brain insisted that he was a complicated person and his reasons had to be complicated. But he’d saved her life. He’d helped her. This man who hadn’t spoken a word to her within the three weeks she had been observing him had come to save her life. Yet that didn’t stop her from feeling some doubt. Jemma knew who he was, what he was, what he’d done.

Evidently he realized that also, because he made a move to step back, and without thinking Jemma snatched his hand, unwilling to allow herself to ruin this moment. He pulled her up easily enough and Jemma was careful of her footing, refusing to stumble. His warm hand released hers and he looked at her strangely, a look she couldn’t really describe.

“Are you alright?”

His voice wasn’t rough or grated. It was soft. And without meaning to, Jemma added that to her list of things that didn’t fit this profile. He’d been a good man once, after all. 

Jemma opened her mouth to respond, but something crashed through the door and she spun to find herself staring down one to many gun barrels. 

Her brain was a disaster, and she was at a loss as he pushed her behind him. Perhaps if it hadn’t been for him putting himself between her and possible death she might have been able to react rationally. But this man, this broken man, this killer, was protecting her. It was the yelling that broke through her thoughts and she found herself pushing around his arm, which was a miracle, because the limb was an amazing piece of technology. 

“Stop!” Jemma screamed and stepped back, pressing her back into his chest. “It wasn’t him!” They didn’t lower their guns and Jemma searched the faces for someone familiar. “May, it wasn’t him. He saved me from them. It wasn’t him.” There was a long moment where they all stared down one another, where the man behind her held his gun up with his real arm. “Please.”

“Lower your weapons,” May said finally with a frown. “Get him out of here.”

The gun which had hovered near her head now lowered, and when she turned to face him they just barely made eye contact before SHIELD agents were pulling him away. Jemma released a shaky breath as she stared out of the glass wall, watching them escort him away. As he passed her he lifted his head and looked at her from beneath long dark hair. His eyes were hard, intense, so much like the pictures of the killer she saw in his case file, the Winter Soldier. But she’d seen the concern in his eyes, heard it in his voice. 

Jemma held his eyes until he rounded the corner and disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

“But we weren’t through! We had two weeks! What do you mean it was for the best!?” Jemma inhaled a deep breath and added, "sir."

“You’ve made enough progress,” Coulson began gently, “and far surpassed what we thought you would at this point with our limited resources.”

Jemma opened her mouth to voice her offense, but Coulson cut her off.

“It’s you Jemma," he said suddenly and immediately regretted it based on the stricken look on her face.

That cut her short, she looked at Coulson in confusion. “Me? But you said I had surpassed expectations.”

Coulson frowned and looked at her with a slightly uncomfortable look. “It’s the way he looks at you Jemma. May was the first to notice it, and after some time I would have to agree."

Her heart pounded. It was a familiar sensation. One she recalled when her hair had slipped free and settled on his cheek. She found him staring at her. When she caught him watching her as she moved about her small lab. When he stood in front of her and she looked awkwardly up at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Coulson frowned. “It’s for the best. He’s still dangerous. He isn’t reformed. That’s the Winter Soldier, not the same man that served with Captain Steve Rogers. He can’t be fixed.”

Jemma swallowed and forced herself to meet Coulson’s eyes. It was hard hearing it said out loud, that she had been so foolish as to become partial to an assassin, a killer. A man who had almost succeeded in killing Director Fury, Captain America, and the Black Widow. A small voice reminded her that it wasn’t him, not really. “Yes sir.” She turned from him and walked stiffly out the door. Fitz troubled her for details, but she waved him off, and instead went straight to her room. 

Once there she could breathe. He was gone, taken away to who knows where, and a part of her screamed it was unfair. She'd been making progress. He had been making progress. And even if what Coulson said had some merit, shouldn't the change in him that have meant there was some improvement? The man saved her life. This killer that they all feared had removed the threat. Wasn't that important?

But she recalled his silent stares, the way it made her gravitate towards him, not retreat, and her logical mind told her that it wasn't right, it wasn't safe. Coulson was right, he was dangerous, and she had been slowly falling for her subject. 

Jemma breathed a deep sigh, trying to push away all thoughts of Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier. It was for the best. There were others that could help him. At least that was what she continued to tell herself.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's erratic, and emotionally unstable. Ever since his transfer.”

"Exactly," Coulson pointed out quickly, then paused. "And you want to send him back, put Jemma in harms way.” They sat across from one another in Fury’s office, their positions were at ease, but it was clearly a stand off.

"You admitted yourself that he had been perfectly calm with her. Had saved her life even,” Fury argued. "I understand your concern and it’s been noted, but we need to get him under control.”

“And Captain Rogers?” Coulson pointed out. “He’s his friend. He can physically control him. Shouldn’t he be the one to reign his friend in?”

“We’ve called him in, but as you know, Captain America has other problems in the world to attend to. He can’t be playing nurse maid to a former mind wiped HYDRA assassin.”

“And my agent is supposed to?” Coulson argued and stood. “She’s a scientist Nick. That’s it. She isn’t a therapist.”

In turn Fury also stood. “She’s qualified to care for him, to track his progress. And if at the same time her pretty face distracts him then so be it.”

Coulson sighed in annoyance. “It’s more then that.”

Fury walked around his desk and came to stop in front . “I don’t care what it is. All I know is that the only time James Barnes has been behaving himself is when he was under Agent Simmons capable hands. He saved her life. It's the first positive contribution he's made since coming to us. He's going back Coulson, under your watchful eye. Put Simmons in charge of his evaluations and testing.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May stood at the window and stared out over the horizon as Phil’s words sunk in.

“I hate it when I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” Phil said after a moment.

“If you were able to then I’d be falling down on the job,” she said plainly and turned back to face him. “Are you wanting me to say that you are right or say something to make you feel better about this?”

“Both, neither. Maybe I just want your honest opinion,” he said from behind his own desk.

“I think, that you’re both right.” May leaned back against the window and folded her arms.

“I’d rather you not play Switzerland.”

“You’re both in different positions. Jemma answers directly to you and you are more personally invested in her safety. If you weren’t worried about putting her in a room with a mentally unstable man who could snap her neck before we could get a bullet off then I would be surprised.”

“Thanks,” he said sourly.

She frowned at his tone, but didn’t respond to it. “But, you saw what I did. For whatever reason he is partial to Jemma.” Phil sighed and sat back, clearly not happy to be reminded of it. “Jemma is…peculiar enough to treat him differently. She’s not scared of him. She talks to him, even when he doesn’t say a word.”

“So, you think Fury is right?”

“Maybe. I don’t know what Fury thinks. I wouldn’t believe he would put Jemma in harms way, but I also believe there isn’t much Fury wouldn’t do to rehabilitate James Barnes. This is his best and safest option.”

“Safe for who though?” Phil asked, and he hated the way that May just stared at him.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jemma sat slowly in the chair and observed the man across from her. He stared down at the table never acknowledging her presence. 

Two days ago Phil had brusquely handed her orders straight from Directory Fury. In addition, he gave her a digital file on James Buchanan Barnes. Phil said nothing of their previous conversation and the reasons the they had sent away James Barnes in the first place. So for two days she’d read over his entire profile, some information old, some new. She also paid close attention to his most recent trouble. Spikes in anger, acting out, trouble sleeping, delusions. His physical and mental state seemed to be in a troubling decline. 

Shortly after Jemma had questioned Phil on his decision to place Jemma in charge of James Barnes. He’d given her no reason and quickly sent her away. 

Now she sat across from her new patient and was at a loss. She was a biochemist, she wasn’t social, she wasn’t suitable to oversee this man’s rehabilitation and hopeful return to the society. She’d screw it up, royally. 

As usual pity won out though. Jemma wanted to help him, not only because he needed it, but because he’d helped her, he’d saved her life. That had to mean something.

“Thank you,” she said finally, because it was the only thing she had, the only thing that she knew needed to be said. He looked up at her and met her eyes. “I didn’t have the opportunity to say it before, but you saved my life. Thank you.”

His brow drew together and he seemed as if he struggled with something. During that time she stared at him, concerned and uneasy.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

Slowly, Jemma smiled at him.  
~~~~~~~~

Behind the mirrored window May turned to Phil with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m still not sold,” he snapped and turned to head for the door. “Keep an eye on him. And you’re gun.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a companion piece to Chapter 4 from Bucky's POV.

Against his will he found himself looking up at the sound of her voice, at that one phrase. Bucky had sworn to himself he wouldn’t be played, not by anyone ever again, and least of all by her, even if she was doing it unintentionally. He refused to be swayed by a pretty face, kind eyes, and a gentle voice. Except he still thought of her, even when he had refused to, because focusing on the memories of an idealistic young man that he barely remembered being or the heartless killer he had become was unacceptable. Bucky didn’t want to remember any of those memories, not yet. It was easier to focus on her, think of her.

So when she spoke finally, soft and unsure, Bucky looked up without a second thought. ‘Thank you’ she’d said. It occurred to him that he couldn’t really remember anyone thanking him, but he didn’t want her thanks, he didn’t deserve it. There were not enough lives to save for him to deserve anyones thanks. Bucky did what he had to do, saved the only decent thing he knew.

“I didn’t have the opportunity to say it before, but you saved my life. Thank you.”

Bucky swallowed nervously, because he knew he should say something, he knew he had to, and the words clawed at his throat, wanting to escape. Perhaps it was because memory reminded him of his manners, but he felt it had more to do with just wanting to speak to her. “You’re welcome,” he said finally. The first thing he’d uttered to her since the day he’d saved her life.

Then she smiled, that same smile she had greeted him with every day before they had moved him. How had he been played so easily? Not by her, he knew it wasn’t by her, but everyone else in SHIELD. Bucky wanted to be angry, he wanted to leave, because he was tired of games, tired of being maneuvered by people in higher places. Leaving would mean being alone, and as much as he hated it, Bucky wouldn’t have been able to walk away from the woman in front of him if he tried.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a routine scan. Any other agent would have laid back without a second thought and taken it in stride. Not James Barnes though. His heart rate became elevated as the table he laid on slid, and when she looked up at his face she could see a wild look in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before she knew this was about to go very badly. Jemma cursed her foolishness.

“Wait!" Jemma snapped and launched herself forward. Without thinking she came to his side, settled a hand over his arm and pressed her other palm against his cheek. She attempted to turn his head, but it wouldn’t budge. "Bucky," she said his name, for the first time ever, and it occurred to her how strange it felt on her tongue. His head snapped to her and she focused again. "We can stop, we don't have to do this." He said nothing, just stared at her with wide, wild eyes. "It won't hurt, I swear. It’s just a scan, remember? I explained it to you.” For a moment she paused, scared to say more. The others in the room didn't know what he really feared, but she did, she was the one in charge of overseeing James Buchanan Barnes after all. She lowered her head further and attempted to keep herself calm as she closed the distance been them. "I know what they did,” she whispered and looked into his eyes. “I know what you're afraid of.” He winced slightly and she saw an emotional pain she couldn’t even describe. He was a grown man, a killer, a force to be reckoned with, but in that moment he looked like a scared child. She knew what HYDRA had done to him, but in that moment she knew she couldn’t really grasp it, understand how emotionally troubled he was. “I wouldn't hurt you, ever. Do you trust me?"

Trust, it was a foreign concept to him. Before, he had trusted blindly, but he hadn’t known, he hadn’t understood, he’d been a blank slate. Now, Bucky didn't trust anyone except Steve, and even that friendship wasn’t on solid ground. Jemma hadn't hurt him though, not once. She'd been overly careful not to. And as much as he hated to admit it she was the only thing or person he looked forward to in his drab existence. "Yes," he forced himself to say. She smiled down at him and a piece of hair slid from behind her ear suddenly and brushed his cheek. It was to intimate, to close. She was to close and it made him nervous. She must have seen it in his eyes because she brushed her hair back and backed away, her hands falling from him 

"Ready?" Jemma asked and he nodded, this time seeming slightly calmer. She gave a nod over him and looked back down. As they proceeded she could see him gripping the sides of the table, notice the opposite side begin to bend under his left hand. The plates in his forearm slid to adjust to the force he was using. Unsure, frightened, Jemma stepped closer again, took his real hand in both of hers and pulled it gently from the table. He let her. Hesitantly, she slid her hand into his and held it with the other between them.

Bucky met her eyes, tensed at the feel of her hand in his own, then slowly he wrapped his fingers around hers, careful not to squeeze them. She smiled gently at him and Bucky knew he had lost another piece of himself to her. What had been a simple escape, a bright part of his day, was turning into something much more dangerous.

He wasn't stupid, he knew why they sent him away, and why they had brought him back. He'd been aware of the sharp eyes of Agent May, of the annoyed look of Coulson as he watched on as Jemma approached him when they returned him to her care. They were playing on a weakness. Bucky hadn't been careful, he'd let human emotions control him, emotions he hadn't been familiar with for some time.

And now he’d let himself get attached. He’d let himself focus on her as his escape, and now it was more.


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky’s nights were filled with dreams. Some dreams were memories. Memories of Steve, of his family, the war, the men he served with. Most nights were filled with nightmares. Falling, cold, grasping for an arm that was gone, killing. So much killing. And pain, constant pain. Screams, begging.

“Bucky.”

It never stopped. 

He wished he had died when he’d fallen. He wished he had forced Steve to kill him.

“Bucky!”

He turned his head at the sound of a familiar voice and concerned eyes stared back at him. In the background he could hear a fast paced beeping. He’d barely registered that it was his own heart rate when he realized that there was a hand on his mangled shoulder. The touch disappeared where his cybernetic arm began. Bucky glanced downed and the small hand resting there.

He didn’t even realize the panic look he gave her when she looked up.

Jemma started to snatch her hand back, but her brain luckily worked quickly and she decided against snatching it away. “Sorry,” she said first then lifted her hand from his shoulder. “You seemed…distracted. You’re heart rate was elevated.”

Glancing down at his bare chest he noted the small stickers there then looked back up again. “I’m fine.”

Jemma wasn’t a therapist, but part of her assignment to Bucky was overseeing his recovery, and that meant being aware of his progression in all areas, even therapy, which he wasn’t progressing very well in at all. Nervously, she licked her lips and turned back to the monitors. They were just taking his vitals, it was a ritual thing, but this time he had spaced out on her. His eyes had been empty and he hadn’t heard a thing. “Can I ask what it was you were thinking about?”

At her question he looked over at her. She didn’t raise her head, but she turned her eyes slightly at him. “I don’t think you want to know.”

“Maybe not, but something is troubling you.”

He inhaled deeply and sighed as he turned away from her again. “So you can write it down and tell me how fucked up I am?” She laughed and he suddenly realized it was probably the most human thing he had said to her. It wasn’t said in a clipped tone, cold, and distant. It wasn’t short answers meant to keep himself isolated. It was more Bucky then anything.

“No,” she said with a smile as she did make notes about his recent spike in heart rate. “Sometimes you just ask when you know someone is troubled by something, no matter how terrible it is.”

He was glad she didn’t look at him when she poke, because he wasn’t sure he could handle her gaze just then. And Bucky was pretty sure she knew that. Often Jemma did avert her eyes when she spoke to him as if she knew it might make him uncomfortable. The fact that she did it made him like her more, and he hated that. Bucky didn’t look at her either. He stared around the lab he had come to know with. It was clean, cold, like so many other places he had become familiar with, but it didn’t scare him.”Seventy years of blood on my hands,” he said evenly. Her hands stilled, the clicking stopped. Bucky didn’t. “Screams, some of them my own. I suppose I deserved it.”

“Deserved it?” Jemma asked more harshly then she intended.

Bucky turned at the sound of her voice to see her looking at him with a look he couldn’t really describe. It could have been confusion, but there was a certain anger in her tone that he wasn’t familiar with.

“Do you really think that?” His eyes flickered nervously away and Jemma stepped forward. “You didn’t know. I told you before that I knew what they did. And you’re right, it’s things that maybe I don’t want to know, because they are terrible, but you didn’t deserve them. They hurt you and used you to kill people, but that isn’t you. You aren’t a murderer, a killer, an assassin, or whatever it is you think you are. You’re a victim Bucky.” By the time she was done his heart rate had picked up again, it was beeping in her ears, his jaw was tense and his eyes hard. She’d gone to far. Quickly, Jemma turned and silenced the monitor. It was too revealing of his current state. Something cold and hard wrapped around her arm and pulled her around. Jemma gasped as she found herself staring up at Bucky. He towered over her, the look on his face so unfamiliar to her. Bucky was normally distant, but this look, vacant of emotion, was something entirely different. It was unfeeling, cold, calculated, much like the man that had saved her that day when SHIELD was attacked. He’d killed those men easily, efficiently, and hadn’t even batted an eyelash.

A victim, that he couldn’t accept, not from her. Not after everything he’d done. The last thing he would have was this women thinking he was anything but a killer. It wasn’t because he wanted her to, it was because she needed to. He’d never be anything but a killer. He’d wanted to prove a point, not let Jemma trick herself into thinking he was good, because he wasn’t. But she looked up at him with that shocked gaze and regretted it immediately.

Jemma forced herself to take in a calming breath. The deadly hand that surrounded her arm didn’t squeeze, but it was firm. There would be no escaping it. Even so, his eyes seemed to soften into something resembling confusion. “I’m going to remove the electrodes,” she said softly and slowly lifted her hands to his chest. Jemma lowered her eyes and focused on removing the stickers gently. Halfway through his hand released her and his arm lowered to his side. 

What Bucky wanted to do was run. He’d never so strongly regretted putting himself in SHIELD’s hands until that moment. He’d wanted to right his wrongs, but he hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t wanted this woman who could leave him so emotionally distraught that he feared being in the same room with her. She made him feel things. Things he didn’t think he was ready to feel. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, because he wanted her forgiveness more then anything. Jemma had done nothing to him.

“I know,” she said quietly, but didn’t meet his eyes. “Are you trying to prove to me that you’re the bad guy or are you trying to prove it to yourself?” His chest rose and fell under her hands and he released a deep sigh. Jemma paused with her fingers on the last electrode and looked up at Bucky to find him staring down at her, black hair hanging around his face.

At first it was her question that unnerved him, because he realized suddenly he wasn’t sure of the answer. Bucky knew he had been trying to prove it to her, but he began to wonder why it bothered him so much for her not to think the worst of him, even when he knew he couldn’t hurt her. Those troubling thoughts fled his mind when she looked up at him and he realized for the first time the situation he had put himself in. She was physically close to him, to close. So much so that her head tipped back to meet his eyes. Then there was her hand resting against his chest. Jemma touched him often, but those touches took on a more doctor and patient feel. This was different. It wasn’t even the comforting touch when he’d been nearly panicked over a month ago, or the gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder earlier to get his attention. This was intimate. In the back of his mind he screamed at himself to back away, but instead he lowered his head slightly an was drawn into her without realizing it. “I don’t know,” he said without really thinking. His proximity to her distracted him and prevented any rational thought.

Jemma felt her face warm under his focused gaze. It took restraint not to step closer to him, to ignore the urges of her own body. Instead she focused on more important matter. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not the bad guy.” Those eyes, always so full of emotions and things she could never understand, stared down at her with such an intensity that she couldn’t look away. It was then that she couldn’t ignore Agent Coulson’s words regarding the way Bucky looked at her. 

He swallowed at her words. “You don’t know that,” he responded and hated the hesitancy in his voice, hated what she could do to him. He could feel her fingers slid over his chest, her hand press flat against his skin.

“Yes, I do,” she whispered softly, and realized that her voice wasn’t just low because of the intimate conversation, but because their faces were so much closer then before. Then there was a noise in the distance, startling her. Jemma gasped, ripped her hand from him and stepped back quickly. Scenarios where someone found them and speculated on what their proximity meant, entered her mind. But in the end no one came in. In the end Jemma met his eyes once more as she lifted her hand and pried the last electrode from his skin.


End file.
